Breaking Up
by ManaMadeleine
Summary: After an exhausting and moral-shattering case, Reid gets drunk-called by Morgan at 3:00 and has to go and pick him up from a bar down-town. On the journey home they reflect over the case and why it affected Morgan so much. ReidXMorgan Brotherly-Friendship stuff. Just a short One-Shot


**So I've been watching a ridiculous amount of Criminal Minds. I'm up to Season Seven so far, so…Little more to go, but I had to get this little ficlet out. It's not my usual level of angst, but I've found that Criminal Minds has a quite reserved way of looking at the characters troubles and grief, so I wanted to reflect that. **

**The fic is meant to be Morgan and Reid friendship, but if you want to read more into it than go ahead.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, and am using them only for story-telling purposes with no hope of profit.**

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It was nearing twelve when Reid stumbled up to the entrance of his home. Fumbling at the door, he blinked, his eyes so bleary now with fatigue that he could bare distinguish which key when into which lock. He rubbed his palm into his eye-sockets aggressively and after jabbing at the wood like an incessant drunk, managed to park the correct key into place. Unlocking the door, he leant his full weight against it, almost falling through as it swung open rapidly. Immediately the pre-alarm began to blare and Reid groaned, punching in the code. The alarm gave a pleased 'beep beep' of approval and grew silent, and Reid shut the door after him, bolting and locking it. Despite the darkness, he didn't go to turn on the light. His head was thundering and more than anything, he wanted to find his bed and sleep for a few days.

It had been a tough case. Two days ago, Garcia had directed them to Idaho where a serial rapist had been preying on young adolescent boys. It had only been flagged however because three of the boys had turned up dead. Morgan, as was to be expected, had taken particular issue with the case and had approached it with an angry vigour that had fuelled the rest of team, despite what turned out to be a thirty-four hour chase. They had profiled the Unsub as a good-looking organised, sexually sadistic narcissist with good communication skills, who drove a four-by-four. They believed him to be a father, and a community figure, probably someone with an occupation that allowed him to be around, or spend time with children.

Their unsub had turned out to be a P.E. Teacher who coached boys football, and helped run the Scouts in the area. Despite the profile being accurate to a tee, no physical evidence could be found tying him to the murders, until one of his students had come forward and admitted that he had witnessed and suffered sexual abuse at the UnSub's hand. The kid who – funnily enough – had been called 'Derek' had been dubbed 'Little Derek' by the team who had admired his strength and courage in the face of all he'd been through. With evidence mounting and the case coming to a close, Morgan had made a promise to Little Derek saying that his abuser would never be able to hurt him again, and that he could get on with his life. Reid had watched as Morgan had given Little Derek his customary contact card, telling the kid to get in touch whenever he needed to.

The whole team had been set to return home, triumphant and feeling good, and then the unspeakable had happened and the UnSub had walked on a technicality. Free, the team and scrambled together to find something – anything! – that could be used to arrest him again. Prentiss had been the one to discover footage from a security camera that – whilst it wasn't pointing at any of the dumpsites – actually caught the reflection of one from another shop window. Garcia had done her technical magic, gone frame by frame and cleared up the image of the UnSub literally dumbing one of his victims.

With the new evidence, the team had rushed in pursuit of the UnSub and had found him at Little Derek's house. The UnSub decided that rather than jail time he'd rather go out with death by cop, and came at Rossi and Hotch with a knife, giving them the excuse they needed to shoot him down. It had been Reid then who, having gotten into the house around the back, had found Little Derek's body, limp and lifeless. Of course Morgan had tried to revive him, but there was only so much that could be done after being stabbed sixteen times through the abdomen. The coroner assured them that the first stab had pierced the aorta and that the kid had died extremely quickly, without prolonged suffering. Reid suspected that, had the UnSub not already been lying on the slab, with two bullets in the brain and one to the chest, Morgan would have pumped several more rounds into him.

The team had left Idaho in a stony and miserable silence and upon reaching the headquarters had all separated unsociably quickly, but none as quick as Morgan who had muttered something about needed to cool his head and had stalked out to the building before Garcia could descend from her room and try to comfort him. Morgan's abrupt departure had left a foul taste in Reid's mouth, but the young man had suspected that Derek would not welcome any intrusion now, when he needed to get his head around what had happened and, what he perceived, to be his own failure.

Stripping down, Reid moved past his keyboard, touching it lightly with the back of his hand so that he could coordinate his way through the room in the dark. He found the edge of the bed with his knees, and despite his usual routine, where he would carefully lay out his clothes for the next day, dump the dirty ones in the laundy basket and brush his teeth, Reid tumbled into the bed instead and gave another long groan of satisfaction as his face sunk into the pillow. He was exhausted.

He must have slept then, because the next thing he knew, it was nearing three and his phone was ringing. He panicked, swatting at it as he tried to orientate himself. He hadn't even gotten into the bed, but was still slumped over the top, his legs sticking off the end. He reached his phone, his hair askew and glared at the caller ID. It was Morgan.

Surprised, Reid answered, "Morg'n?" he slurred, the room spinning around him he was so tired. He heard nothing from the other side – no, that wasn't true. Reid squinted, listening hard. He could hear insipid music, muffled sounds, and stray voices. "Morgan?" he called again.

"Reid?" Morgan's voice was strange and distorted. Reid realised a moment later that Morgan was drunk. "Reid – this sonofabitch took my keys…He doesn't believe that I-…that I am FBI. Reid, tell him…You tell him, ok? I need my damned keys back, Reid."

Spencer blinked confused as the phone was passed. A new speaker came onto the line. "Hello?"

"Hi?" Reid rubbed his eyes hard, "Who is this?"

"This is David O'Connel, I run the Sun and Moon Bar down-town. Your friend here's been drinking solidly since six-o-clock. I've confiscated his car keys, but he won't let me call him a cab. Says he's FBI."

"He…is." Spencer rolled over the bed and turned the lamp on beside him. It was brighter than he anticipated and he blinked back the pain that stabbed through his pupil. "Urh…Where abouts are you? I'll…I'll come and get him."

Reid could hear the bar-keeps relief as he rattled off the address to Reid, who hung up and, gathering his clothes, gave his bed one last longing look-over and left the house. Trudging down to his car, he put the music on loudly as he drove, turning the AC up full in an attempt to wake himself up. By the time he reached the bar, his head was wringing and his teeth were chattering. Stepping out, the air outside hit him like a humid slap in the face, and made him want to crawl down into the gutter and pass out. His headache wasn't getting any better either, but he pushed on into the bar.

Inside, he found Morgan at the far end of the room, slumped over the bar with an empty glass in his hand. The bar-keeper spotted Reid and, when he saw that Spencer was here for Morgan gave a nod of appreciation. Reid stopped beside Morgan and hesitated. He hadn't really thought that far ahead – to be honest, he hadn't even really thought through anything he was doing. He cleared his throat tentatively.

"M-…Morgan?" he offered and Derek turned his head, his cheek pressed into the bar. Reid had never seem him like this, so defeated by drink and exhaustion. Normally when they went out, Morgan was the life of the party, the guy in the middle of the dance-floor, taking shots with Prentiss and even beating Hotch at darts. But this…

Morgan blinked, "Reid?" he slurred.

"Yeah…It's me." Reid eased himself onto the chair next to Morgan. "It's…Pretty late."

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked, or that was what Reid presumed he asked, because he was whispering now, and words were distorted by the drink.

"You, ur, called me." Reid reminded, "You wouldn't take a cab, so…I guess I'm here to take you home."

Morgan grunted and turned his head away again, "Don't want to go home."

"You can't stay here." Reid tried to insist, "Come on, Morgan; you need to sleep. We both do."

"Leave me alone, Reid."

Reid hesitated, "If it were me, would you?" he asked and Morgan turned back. Reid could see that Morgan was processing the question carefully, or as carefully as a drink-addled mind could. Reid used this time to continue pushing his case, keeping his voice at a friendly neutral; a calm soothing tone. It was the same voice he used for his mother when she had one of her episodes. "It's been a really long day. You need to sleep. Come with me and I'll get you home…To bed." Reid added, almost wistfully. Morgan's eyes sparked with understanding, and then darkened with a sudden and terrible sorrow.

"Reid," he muttered, his voice clearer and stark. "I don't feel good."

From the corner of his eye, Reid saw the bar-man freeze, probably anticipating a puking session, but Spencer understood. "I know." He said calmly.

"I haven't felt his bad since Prentiss…" Morgan's voice cut out.

"I know."

"I should have _been_ there."

"Let's get you home." Reid offered and Morgan, too dazed now in his anguish, only nodded dully, allowing Reid to help him off the bar. Spencer was surprised by how much dead-weight fell against him as he heaved Morgan off. The man could barely walk; he was well and truly drunk. Reid struggled to hold his weight, thinking of how much easier it would all be if the roles were reversed. He dragged Morgan's arm over his shoulder and, thanking the barman, slowly negotiated Morgan out to his car.

Getting him settled into the passenger seat, Reid drove a couple of blocks to a 24 Hour convenience store and bought a large bottle of water and some aspirin. He gave both to Morgan and then proceeded the journey to the house.

By the time they arrived, between the AC and the water, Morgan had sobered a little and was sitting up, a more alert, eyes cast to the window. "Why's it so cold in here?" he asked tonelessly.

"So I don't fall asleep."

"You didn't have to come get me, Reid."

"Yes I did." Reid replied and parked up. Exiting the car, he came around to the other side in time to see Morgan trying to climb out himself. He tripped onto he pavement and Reid had to heave him back up again, though a part of his brain reasoned it would just be easier to follow Morgan's example and slump into sleep. Reid couldn't help but laugh, earning a strange look from Derek. "I'm imaging what would happen if we fell asleep here and someone mistook us for dead bodies." he explained, his voice almost hysterical for his exhaustion. Derek squinted at him and Reid closed his mouth and continued on his quest to get Morgan up into this apartment.

The stairs were out of the question, so they took the pokey little elevator, Derek propped up against the wall, Reid desperately trying to remember which floor Morgan lived on. "Three…" Morgan informed the unasked question and, relieved, Reid punched in the button.

They made it to Morgan's door without further incident, and after battling through Morgan's pockets to find his house keys, Reid repeated the same performance he'd given at his own house trying to negotiate his way through the door.

"I could have picked the lock quicker than you're opening it." Morgan informed in a slur and Reid finally found the keyhole and let them in. Both of them toppled into the hallway together as Morgan lurched forward in anticipation and Reid lost his footing, trying to take the key out of the door. Morgan kicked the door shut after them and Reid let his head drop against the carpet. Neither moved for a while, and then Spencer stumbled up to his feet, dragging Morgan up after him. "Come on…" he insisted as Derek gave a low groan of defiance, before allowing Reid to pull him up and drag him toward the bedroom. By the time Reid had deposited Morgan onto the bed, he was breathless from the exertion. He couldn't imagine, in that moment, how UnSubs regularly manhandled people like this…It was exhausting. He collapsed back onto a chair as Morgan rolled from his back onto his front. Both remained in silence for a long time, then Morgan spoke.

"Reid?"

"Yeah, Morgan?"

"You still here?"

"Yeah." Reid rested his head against the wall, sighing.

"I don't normally…I mean…Only one of the team who's ever seen me…like…" Derek broke off.

"Garcia. I know."

Another silence, "I should've known he'd go after Little Derek…I should have known that sick bastard…We profiled him. It was a power-play…he had to eliminate the one who defied him…like he killed the others…But we let him go…How could we let him go?"

"It was out of our hands…But we go him." Reid tried to say, but he knew it did little to comfort Morgan. Too much had already been destroyed. Too many children.

"I promised that Kid."

"I know."

"He _trusted_ me."

"I know." Reid pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger.

"What's the point of our job if we can't even save one little boy!" Morgan gave a furious shout, the sudden level of his voice catching Reid off guard and making him jump. For a moment, he was lost for words, unsure himself.

"Because we did," he eventually decided, eyes darting hesitantly over to Morgan who turned his head around to look at Spencer sceptically. "We saved his next victim, and the one after that. We saved the kids who were too scared to come forward, and we made sure that the ones who died got justice."

"Justice," Morgan spat, "The hell is justice going to do now? The hell does justice do for those families?"

There was another long, painful silence.

"That kid…" Derek's voice cracked it was so quiet. "That could have been me."

Reid's entire chest lurched at the thought of it. He was suddenly back at the scene of the crime, watching Morgan desperately try to revive the life-less boy, pumping his chest even though it was already far too late. Hotch had too half-wrestle Morgan away so the paramedics could officially pronounce him dead. That same stifling, almost paralytic helplessness settled over Reid and a he fought back the sudden need to cry. "Morgan…" his voice petered out, a few tears breaking out though he battled them hard. Try as he might, he could find no more words of comfort.

"I know, kid." Morgan gave a long sigh, "I know."

Another long silence as Reid struggled to regain his composure. His open sadness seemed to calm Morgan; it probably brought out the natural big-brother instinct in him, the one that refused to let him fall victim to his guilt. Reid had always admired that innate strength in Derek; it was kind and reliable. "Reid…" Morgan murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming to get me and…for having my back."

"This team…wouldn't work without you. We just…We wouldn't." Reid replied, his voice hollow with a renewed exhaustion. He thought he heard Derek smile, but he didn't have time to dwell on that pleasant feeling as, with one last defiant push, sleep overcame him and he allowed his head to drop back against the wall in surrender.

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It was nine-thirty in the morning when SSA Aaron Hotchner found himself outside Derek Morgan's door. On normal accounts, Hotch wouldn't have interfered – his co-workers were private people, Morgan more so than anyone – but after losing Gideon to his sad thoughts, Aaron found himself concerned for his team mate and had navigated his way to Morgan's home when Rossi had informed him that Morgan had yet to show up at the bureau.

Knocking, he tried to make it sound brisk and official. There was nothing from the other side for a long time and then, to his astoundment and surprise, a bedraggled looking Reid answered the door, head tilted like his neck was stiff and jumper on inside out, the label sticking up at the back. Reid blinked twice up and Hotchner, as if his processing speed had been slowed. "Hotch?"

"Reid?" Aaron replied in equal surprise.

"What are you….What are you doing here?"

"I came to find Morgan…What are you doing here?" Hotch asked more pointedly and Reid made to answer before stopping himself. Hotch could see Reid considering his response carefully before, with a guilty look past Aaron's shoulder, he lied.

"I came by to borrow some…" he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling for inspiration, "sugar?"

"You…came by to borrow sugar?"

"Yeah."

"…You drove all the way here for…sugar?"

"Yeah." Reid repeated in a slighter voice.

"All the way here, from the other side of town past numerous convenience stores to borrow sugar?"

Reid shrugged helplessly, and Aaron fought back the smile. "Reid?"

"Mhm?" Reid darted his gaze at Hotch's face, arms folded tightly against his lean form, rocking back and forth on his heals.

"Is he alright?" Hotch asked and Reid looked back into the apartment, his expression softening.

"Give him some time…" he replied faintly, "He will be…I mean," he turned back with a more confident smile, "It's Morgan right?"

Hotch returned the expression, relieved. "Yes," he agreed, "It's Morgan."

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**Thanks very much for reading! Please leave a review!**


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